Crazy game of ping pong?
by EC
Summary: An impromptu strip ping pong tournament commences during a blizzard. Hilarity and hijinks ensue.


"Strip...ping pong?"

They're all so used to blaming Tony for these sorts of things, so when Darcy suggests a friendly strip ping pong tournament to help pass the time during an epic snow storm (it seems that even the bad guys don't feel like causing mayhem during a blizzard), they all sort of stare at her for a while.

"Yeah, we did lots of strip-whatever in college. Strip poker, strip yahtzee, strip chess..."

"I definitely went to the wrong school." This from Tony, a "Damn, I should have gone to college," from Clint and a rather curious sounding "Strip_chess_?" from Bruce. Steve just blushes, like he does when it comes to just about anything Darcy spouts out. And Tasha stays quiet, playing that whole deadly and silent thing up just a little too much.

Thor, on the other hand, is all Thor. "Well I for one am certainly up for a challenge. This _ping pong_ sounds intriguing. You Midgardians have such interesting customs."

Loki, however, remains silent. And considering he's the God of Mischief, a quiet Loki does not bode well. But they're all at least one or two drinks in already, and Tony was letting them break into his stash of the good stuff, so nobody really seems to care that he's more than likely up to something.

As it turns out, he is up to something, but it's only his hiding of the fact that he's really, _really_ good at ping pong. Darcy has to wonder if they even have something similar in Asgard and has a hard time picturing all those Gods and Goddesses smacking a tiny ball back and forth. And if they do, she bets it's totally epic, with the table taking up an entire room and the paddles made of gold or something.

But no matter the reason behind his prowess with the paddle, Loki is only one of two people left in the room to be fully clothed. The guys are all down to their boxers, the sight of which is about as close to heaven that Darcy will ever get while still on earth. Seriously- was being ridiculously cut some sort of prerequisite to being a superhero? The lounge could easily double as a spread in GQ and it takes every ounce of control Darcy has to not take a picture and post it to Facebook.

Okay. So she _may_ have taken a few pictures. But that shit's staying on her phone (and most likely her desktop image on her laptop) because, dammit, there are perks to working for a super secret government agency.

Natasha's only lost her shirt, but she forfeits early on for the sake of observing and, Darcy thinks, gathering up intel for any future blackmailing needs. Nothing motivates Tony (or Clint) to get something done faster than the threat of an embarrassing story.

Which leaves Darcy as the other person still in possession of all of their clothing, a fact she's fully intent on keeping now that their tournament has reached the final rounds and it's now Darcy versus Loki. The room is unnaturally silent as the others watch the Girl who Tased Thor battle against The Guy Who Almost Destroyed New York. Darcy's honestly a little let down by this silence, because this moment totally deserves an epic soundtrack. Like _Eye of the Tiger_ or that really cool song from Kill Bill that nobody can ever remember the name of.

While Loki is good, Darcy likes to think she's better. She has a mad sense of hand/eye coordination, something that's come in handy quite a few times during some serious beer pong battles. (She almost, _almost_ initially suggested they play beer pong, but she's pretty certain that Tony doesn't A)Allow any cheap beer into Stark Tower and B)Has no idea what a Red Solo Cup even looks like). The advantage seems to be in her favor from the start, and she has to refrain from doing a little victory dance when she wins the first of three games and Loki strips off his tunic. (They all agreed that armor didn't count as a layer. They also agreed on a somewhat elaborate tournament system with brackets and rankings and Darcy even made a chart.)

Game two is a very humbling experience in which Darcy really needs to remember Han Solo's _Don't get cocky, kid_. Because Loki beats her, quite soundly, and she has to wonder if he let her win the first game. She's about to ask as much when the sound of a throat clearing (she's unable to identify who it's from, but her guess is Tony) reminds her that the rules demand she lose an item of clothing. There's an almost audible inhalation of breath as she strips out of her sweater...and then an equally almost audible sigh when that reveals the tanktop she has on underneath.

"What?" She eyes them all, then shrugs. "A girl's gotta layer."

Game three is worse than game two. An utter embarrassment, and she's practically glaring at Loki as he stands there with the paddle in his hand, all perfect and sculpted and surprisingly hot for a former villain.

"I believe you must now shed another item, Miss Lewis. Those are the rules that you yourself implemented."

Damn him. Damn him and his perfect voice and his perfect body.

Without thinking (and maybe a few grumblings) she slides out of her jeans. It's the laughter from Tony that reminds her that she probably should have gone with the tanktop.

"Are those _Captain America Underoos_?"

Darcy glances down at the offending garment and plays it off with a lazy shrug of her shoulders.

"Why yes, yes they are." Don't look at Steve. _Don't look at Steve_. "Thursdays are laundry days, and they're the only clean pair I had left." _Don't look at Steve_.

"I think they're great. There's a whole set of them." This from Tasha, which is a total surprise because she was pretty certain that nothing but leather and lace has ever graced the skin of that woman.

"Who's on the seventh? I'm assuming the set is for an entire week, because six seems an odd number." Curse Bruce and Bruce's inquisitive scientific mind.

And this is where Tasha throws Darcy under the bus, because all she does is smirk. Darcy squirms.

"I too am rather curious as to the seventh pair, Miss Lewis." Loki steps closer. Darcy takes a reflexive step back and mutters out a response, which only causes Loki to take another step closer. "What was that? I don't believe we all caught that."

"Loki. Loki's on the seventh pair."

"But he's not even officially a part of the team!"

She shoots Clint a look that's a mix of _No shit, Sherlock_ and _Shut the fuck up, spandex boy_ and because six months is apparently enough time to become fluent in the Looks of Darcy Lewis, he gets it and says nothing else.

"It was a heros and villains collection, if I recall correctly." Dammit, Tasha.

"Loki has been working for us for nearly one half of your years now. When were these garments produced?" Dammit, Thor.

"A year ago, I think. So like, a month after the attack. And are we seriously having a discussion on my choice of underwear?"

"Yes." The response comes in stereo from everyone in the room.

"You guys suck. Seriously. See if I ever make a cool chart for you again!"

There's not much venom behind her words because even though she's totally mortified, she's not mad. Well, not _that_ mad. And she's able to calm down because after that they all declare Loki the winner of the tournament and they scatter off to do whatever it is they all do when they're not playing strip ping pong during a blizzard.

Except for Loki.

He remains behind, all long lines as he effortlessly leans against the ping pong table, the paddle still in his hand.

"What day am I?"

"'Scuse me?" She already knows what he's asking, but decides to stall. Her confusion can easily be blamed on the alcohol, after all.

"If you wear the Captain America _underoos_ -" it seriously kills her (and does all sorts of things to her) to hear Loki say that word "- on Thursday, then what day do you wear mine?"

Darcy narrows her eyes at him and crosses her arms over her chest (which, okay, she probably does on purpose because it enhances the girls that much more).

"I'll tell you if you tell me just what other mad skills you have with a ping pong paddle."

It's meant as a joke. A bad one, and an even worse bluff because, really, it's _Loki_. Bad with a capital B, and _so_ out of her league. But it comes off way too far on the side of flirting, and not even good flirting at that.

Loki seems to be considering her offer, though. His eyes drift down to the paddle, then back to her, and a slightly dangerous yet amazingly sexy smirk drags across his lips.

"I do believe I can agree to those terms."

Later- when they're both panting and sweaty and she'll never be able to look at a ping pong paddle or table again in the same way, she responds with a breathy "Mondays. It always makes Mondays better."


End file.
